Prowling octopi, the Great Crab Escape and other fish tank adventures

Published: Thursday, February 20, 2014 at 4:02 p.m.

Last Modified: Thursday, February 20, 2014 at 4:02 p.m.

The story -- third-, fourth-, maybe sixth-hand at this point -- is framed by two fish tanks. One with actual fish, the other with an octopus. It is a small, domesticated octopus and not an angry, submarine-eating sea beast.

No matter. Here are the details revealed during a student carpool: A local family started noticing fish were missing in one of their tanks. Meanwhile, the octopus across the room kept quiet, looking the other way and trying to whistle nonchalantly as the humans scratched their bewildered heads.

One night, the humans set up a camera and, according to the story, discovered the octopus was escaping its tank at night, meandering across the room, climbing into the other tank, dining on fresh seafood and crawling back in its tank with a satisfied "Urp."

I love this story. At first, I did not want to know if it was true. A good octopus story is a good octopus story; why bog it down with facts? But I am a newspaperman, so I decided to launch a full investigation. Naturally, I avoided respected cephalopod experts and went straight to Facebook.

Within minutes, friends were posting videos of escaping octopi and recounting their own stories.

"I had an octopus escape its tank before," noted Judi from Ocala. "They are very smart and can squeeze through any tiny opening."

"I saw a video of one opening a pickle jar to get a fish inside," noted our neighbor Stacey. "Really cool."

"Yep, they do well out of water," added Elizabeth from Gainesville. "Growing up, we had them climb our anchor line and end up on the boat deck."

What fascinates me about this story, other than the whole octopi-roaming-your-house-while-you-sleep thing, is it comes soon after two disturbing fish-tank incidents from my own family.

My nephew Danny and his family have a large fish tank in their living room, and Danny contends there is a pet crab in there with the fish.

Recently, Danny told us, he was cleaning the tank and could not find the crab. He did not think much of it. The tank is the size of a Ford Escort, and there are plenty of hiding places. No worries, right? Except for later that week, as Danny and his wife, Lexi, were watching TV, the crab emerged from under the couch and scrambled across the floor, launching a magnificent cacophony of wife shrieks.

"She thought it was a prehistoric roach," Danny recalled.

Because the crab had been hiding under the couch for, well, who knows how long, it was caked in dust and Dorito crumbs and pet hair and … hey, don't judge! Look under your couch right now and imagine what your sofa crab would look like. Anyway, the Dorito crab — now twice its size thanks to its coat of gunk — was NOT happy, lunging hairy pincers at Danny and trying to evade capture.

Note: When you see Danny Schlenker around town, demand he tell you this story immediately and not skimp on the visuals.

Not long after the Great Crab Escape, we had a tragic fish-tank incident in our own home. In short, Kermit Pickle the Tutti Frutti frog ate his guppy friends, Sunny and Rosey. Also called African Clawed Frogs, Tutti Frutti frogs apparently grow tired of retail frog food and, when they grow large and daring enough, dine on roommates.

When Sunny disappeared, we tried to give Kermit Pickle the benefit of the doubt, attributing the disappearance to everything from a well-timed leap out of the tank to alien abduction. But as we were discussing the possibilities, our daughter Caroline — Kermit's 10-year-old keeper — looked back and noticed a significant lack of Rosey. Kermit the carnivore sat dazed in the corner, unquestionably larger than he was a mere hour before.

Thus, based on this vast research, I hereby put this region on Terror Alert Orange. This is not a drill, folks. This is an alarming epidemic of creepy tank things. Develop a plan. If there is a fish tank in your vicinity, establish a safe zone for your family. Personally, though, I would avoid hiding under the couch.

<p>The story -- third-, fourth-, maybe sixth-hand at this point -- is framed by two fish tanks. One with actual fish, the other with an octopus. It is a small, domesticated octopus and not an angry, submarine-eating sea beast.</p><p>No matter. Here are the details revealed during a student carpool: A local family started noticing fish were missing in one of their tanks. Meanwhile, the octopus across the room kept quiet, looking the other way and trying to whistle nonchalantly as the humans scratched their bewildered heads.</p><p>One night, the humans set up a camera and, according to the story, discovered the octopus was escaping its tank at night, meandering across the room, climbing into the other tank, dining on fresh seafood and crawling back in its tank with a satisfied "Urp."</p><p>I love this story. At first, I did not want to know if it was true. A good octopus story is a good octopus story; why bog it down with facts? But I am a newspaperman, so I decided to launch a full investigation. Naturally, I avoided respected cephalopod experts and went straight to Facebook.</p><p>Within minutes, friends were posting videos of escaping octopi and recounting their own stories.</p><p>"I had an octopus escape its tank before," noted Judi from Ocala. "They are very smart and can squeeze through any tiny opening."</p><p>"I saw a video of one opening a pickle jar to get a fish inside," noted our neighbor Stacey. "Really cool."</p><p>"Yep, they do well out of water," added Elizabeth from Gainesville. "Growing up, we had them climb our anchor line and end up on the boat deck."</p><p>What fascinates me about this story, other than the whole octopi-roaming-your-house-while-you-sleep thing, is it comes soon after two disturbing fish-tank incidents from my own family.</p><p>My nephew Danny and his family have a large fish tank in their living room, and Danny contends there is a pet crab in there with the fish.</p><p>Recently, Danny told us, he was cleaning the tank and could not find the crab. He did not think much of it. The tank is the size of a Ford Escort, and there are plenty of hiding places. No worries, right? Except for later that week, as Danny and his wife, Lexi, were watching TV, the crab emerged from under the couch and scrambled across the floor, launching a magnificent cacophony of wife shrieks.</p><p>"She thought it was a prehistoric roach," Danny recalled.</p><p>Because the crab had been hiding under the couch for, well, who knows how long, it was caked in dust and Dorito crumbs and pet hair and … hey, don't judge! Look under your couch right now and imagine what your sofa crab would look like. Anyway, the Dorito crab — now twice its size thanks to its coat of gunk — was NOT happy, lunging hairy pincers at Danny and trying to evade capture.</p><p>Note: When you see Danny Schlenker around town, demand he tell you this story immediately and not skimp on the visuals.</p><p>Not long after the Great Crab Escape, we had a tragic fish-tank incident in our own home. In short, Kermit Pickle the Tutti Frutti frog ate his guppy friends, Sunny and Rosey. Also called African Clawed Frogs, Tutti Frutti frogs apparently grow tired of retail frog food and, when they grow large and daring enough, dine on roommates.</p><p>When Sunny disappeared, we tried to give Kermit Pickle the benefit of the doubt, attributing the disappearance to everything from a well-timed leap out of the tank to alien abduction. But as we were discussing the possibilities, our daughter Caroline — Kermit's 10-year-old keeper — looked back and noticed a significant lack of Rosey. Kermit the carnivore sat dazed in the corner, unquestionably larger than he was a mere hour before.</p><p>Thus, based on this vast research, I hereby put this region on Terror Alert Orange. This is not a drill, folks. This is an alarming epidemic of creepy tank things. Develop a plan. If there is a fish tank in your vicinity, establish a safe zone for your family. Personally, though, I would avoid hiding under the couch.</p>